On Road To Recovery
by SpobyFicStalker
Summary: "How is it even possible that he managed to destroy in a few weeks what he'd spent the last year and a half building up?" Spencer and Toby. Based off of 5x24 and 5x25. Oneshot.


A/N: Hey, guys! Here I am once again trying to make sense out of the mess that the writers left us with. I agonized for like a week for how it was even possible that Spencer could think Toby didn't want to be with her after everything they've been through together. The only conclusion I could make is that she's even more emotionally damaged than I thought. And no, it's not Toby's fault. He's as much a victim of it as Spencer is.

So this starts off after they reunite in 5x24 and continues until after the finale. I feel the need to tell you, though: if you're looking for a story where Spoby deals with the aftermath of the dollhouse this one probably won't satisfy you. I touch on it briefly, but this is more about rectifying the disaster that came before.

Endless thanks for the amazing feedback on And If We. I'm so grateful to all of you. Those of you that want more of my random Spoby rambles, visit me at Spobyficstalker on Tumblr. :)

* * *

**On Road To Recovery**

_"Honestly, it felt really good to be with someone who wanted to be with me. Something Toby hasn't wanted since he put on that stupid uniform." – Spencer Hastings  
_  
They make love all night.

At first it's urgent and uncontrolled and sweaty. Their hands are all over each other's naked figures as they try, quite despairingly, to get back the time they lost. They kiss feverishly as their bodies move as one, and her legs lock around his waist tightly because the idea of him pulling out of her is too devastating to even think about.

Finally, she's being kissed by the person she wants to kiss. The boy with the blue eyes, the boy she has kissed so many times before and the boy she wants to spend rest of her life kissing.

She can see the angst in his eyes. She can tell he knows about her secrets even if he doesn't know exactly what. She tells herself that maybe he doesn't want to know. Maybe it would be more humane to leave him in the dark about how far she went in her effort not to need him so desperately.

She tries to tell him with her body, subconsciously at first, that it's him that she craves. She has no doubt that it's effective because he returns the feeling with equal ferocity. He kisses her with the same possessiveness that he demonstrated downstairs when his lips crashed against hers for the first time in weeks. It's a novel sensation because it's not in his nature to be territorial, but she can't say she hates it. In fact, she kind of loves it. It's probably wrong, she thinks. It's probably unhealthy to want him to want her this much.

After two or three times, they calm down a bit. Their movements become slower, less bold, less ruthless. Their kissing becomes more drawn out and languid, and when their bodies connect intimately it's with less haste.

They still don't talk much. Even in between rounds they lie close together mostly in sated silence. She fiddles with his fingers, traces the lines of his wonderful face; and every once in a while he'll lean in closer to brush a kiss against her, against her cheek or her forehead or her hair or her shoulder. His lips linger on her for seconds at a time and she finds herself closing her eyes in pleasure.

They manage to get some sleep in but it's superficial and fitful at best. She feels too restless to doze, too agitated, too starved for him. It's as if a pull rouses her from her slumber every time, and when she reaches for him she finds that he's usually already awake. A familiar yearning takes over and they go at it again before collapsing in another heap of exhaustion.

It's only when the sun comes up and her bedroom slowly brightens that she dares to ask, "Did you mean what you said before? That I'm the person that matters most to you?"

"Of course." He pulls back a little to look her in the eye. "Spence… It's not even a close call."

All of a sudden, the guilt and remorse she's been unable to feel until now hit her like a force field. Both emotions take over her entire being, and tears are falling from her eyes before she's even aware of it.

He quickly wipes the liquid salt from her cheeks and she sees how he braces himself.

"What did you do, Spencer?" he questions in a low voice. "Just tell me what you did. It can't be any worse than what I've been picturing in my head."

She pulls away; sits up. She reaches for the T-shirt he showed up in last night and pulls it over her head. She can't talk to him when she's naked. Not about this.

She's relieved to see him pulling on his boxers as well. It's almost as if they need these physical obstacles between them. A blockade, however small, that will prevent them from searching for comfort in the corporal rather than the verbal.

She can't look at him when she says, "I explored my options."

This is not news to him, she can tell. He barely even looks shocked. All he does is narrow his eyes. "You're going to have to give me a little more than that."

"I tried to move on from you, okay?" She focuses on the pattern on her bedspread. "I wanted to know if I could. If it was even a remote possibility."

He remains stoic, and she can't handle his silence. She rips off the band-aid. "Jonny kissed me. So did Melissa's roommate… after I let him take me out for Shakespeare and drinks."

She expects to see anger on his face, so much anger than it has the potential to frighten her. But all she sees is hurt, and it makes her stomach do a slow, utmost painful summersault.

She struggles to say something – anything – but for once in her life her brain fails to form a single word and she sits there in stony soundlessness while her world spins in circles.

"I guess the fact that I was just trying to protect you from Tanner really meant nothing to you, huh?" he finally speaks up, and his voice is void of any emotion.

"I didn't know that's what you were doing," she protests meekly, feeling ungrateful even as she says the words.

At the disbelief on his face she hastens to explain, "All I knew is we didn't agree on anything anymore, and then you stopped wanting to be a part of my life. You were distant on the phone, you cancelled almost every time we made plans… When we did get together you didn't want to go anywhere. You always wanted to stay inside like you were ashamed to be seen around town with me."

"I didn't want Tanner to see us together," he admits helplessly. "I always felt so exposed around you, Spencer. I felt like she would know with one look that I would throw my oath out the window if it kept you safe."

Despite this confession she feels a spark of anger. "Well, why didn't you tell me that instead of letting me think I was an embarrassment to your job?"

"I did tell you," he shoots back. "That night at the gas station, I told you she was–"

She laughs bitterly. "It was way too late by then. My head was already messed up and I thought you were just making excuses. You told me to walk away, and I guess I concluded you were one of them now and you were starting to see me the way all cops see me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks incredulously.

"Like I'm trash!" she cries. "A liar, a troublemaker, a nutcase. Another version of Alison."

"I love you!" His eyes are wet now as his words echo across the room. "You had to have known that. I don't accept that you didn't know that."

She sighs, choosing her words carefully. "It's very possible to love someone without liking who they are. We both know that. I still love my family, and you still love your dad."

He's quiet for a while, and she hardly dares to breathe out of fear it might drive him out the door, and, if she's perfectly honest, out of her life forever. When he finally speaks he sounds drained.

"So what you're saying is you thought I looked at you the way we both look at our families where we love them but we kind of wish we didn't?"

It's painful how accurate his words are, and she winces at how this hurt had influenced her behavior towards him. For some reason she'd been unable to show him her pain. Instead, a stone cold fury had taken over every time they interacted – something she still can't quite explain except that it had enraged her what he was doing to her. He was the one who had given her that one ray of sunshine where she believed she would be treasured no matter what… and then he become a cop, saw her for what she really was, and took it away.

The boy she had once thought of as the town freak; the one she wouldn't have considered for anything in the world. The one she had mocked once for never having been on a date in his life. Her very own Boo Radley – who had turned into Prince Charming along the way. The person that would give her things she spent her whole life longing for but never thought she'd actually have, which alone would have ensured that she could never love anyone else the way she loves him.

"Something like that," she finally agrees in defeat. "I thought you were preparing to let me go, and… I tried really hard to do the same."

Again, he doesn't speak and it drives her crazy. It drives her crazy how he processes everything on the inside while she has to rant and rave to get it out of her system.

"I'm sorry," she laments painfully, almost feeling like she's babbling. "It's sounds ridiculous when I say it now. When you're with me like this, when you look at me with those eyes and you kiss me like the world is ending… it_ feels_ ridiculous. But you _weren't_ there and I was so confused that I–"

She's interrupted by the feel of his lips on hers and before she knows it she's on her back on the mattress and he's on top of her. It's the kind of kiss she was talking about before, and her mind is swept clean of all coherent thought except that she can't fathom how it's possible that he's so insistent and yet so gentle at the same time. His hands are underneath her T-shirt now and he's stroking her body so unbelievably sensually that she almost lets it go – because how could anything be wrong when they're able to love each other so passionately?

But she can't. Her mind just doesn't work that way.

Her fingers push against his rock hard chest, and he pulls back in confusion. He looks hurt and her heart aches, for she knows it's because he wants to prove the depth of his feelings to her and now she won't let him.

"Wait," she says, and her hand continues to put pressure on his shoulder until they're both in a sitting position once again. Timidly, she asks, "How come you're not more mad at me? About…?"

Darkness crosses his face, and she knows she doesn't have to spell out kissing two other guys while she was officially still his. If she's perfectly honest with herself she hadn't been able to imagine a scenario where she came clean and he didn't leave her stranded, alone and in tears. The last thing she ever expected was that he would take it upon him to demonstrate his devotion to her. Most guys would demand the exact opposite.

To her utter surprise, he smirks humorlessly. "That would fit right in with your world views, wouldn't it? Me storming off and never showing my face again?"

She's puzzled, and he notices because he continues brashly, "Everything goes to shit, right? Nothing lasts? Hope breeds eternal misery?" His eyes are trained on her. "Fuck that. There is _nothing_ you could do that would make me not want to be with you. Even if you told me you slept with half of London I'd still be here."

She sucks in her breath and lowers her eyes. He's seldom so outspoken, and in never fails to shock her a little bit.

"Does that scare you?" he asks, and she notices how his tone has grown softer. "Does it scare you that someone could possibly love you that much? Or do you just not believe it?"

Her throat closes and all she can do is stare at him, not unlike she had when he'd declared he would give up his job before he let it come between them.

But he doesn't react like he did then, or like he did a few minutes ago. He doesn't kiss her senseless. Instead, he carefully pulls her between his legs and holds her against his body so intimately that it brings tears to her eyes. When she lifts her face to look up at him he drops a kiss on her nose.

* * *

When he sees her, she's not in the orange jumpsuit she was wearing on the screen in -A's lair. A magnificent green and pink ball dress engulfs her thin body, but Toby barely registers with this as he spots her in the distance.

He'd told himself beforehand that he would maintain his professionalism in front of his peers, but it's only when he's holding her in his arms that he realizes he doesn't care. He doesn't care that he's here in this bunker on official business and he should be treating her like he would treat any abduction victim. He briefly looks around to check on the other four, but seeing that they're all still breathing and being tended to by his colleagues allows him to refocus all his attention on the one in his arms.

Her breath is ragged against his neck and he grows aware that she's trembling against him. Without a second thought he strips himself of his uniform jacket and wraps it around her lithe frame. She keeps it on during the ride back to the precinct, and they sit in the back of one of the cop cars and she leans against him and he wishes he could make her stop shaking.

He's not permitted to be the one to question her, which is the hardest part for him. He watches her disappear into one of the interrogation rooms, still wearing his jacket, and the thought of her being out of his sight for even a minute is enough to make his stomach churn.

Caleb shows up with Ezra, as well as all the parents. He distracts himself by letting them in on what's been going on. They all look several shades paler than usual, but seem to calm down a bit after he tells them all the girls are shaken but physically unharmed. Spencer's parents seem to struggle more than the others with the fact that they're no longer permitted to sit in on their daughter's interview now that she's of age. They're control freaks, Toby knows, but he's always content with whatever concern they show for her anyway.

One by one, the girls show up. They are hugged and kissed, and there are tears. When it's Spencer's turn, he holds himself back and lets her parents have a moment with her. Her eyes search him out over her father's shoulder, and she stretches out her hand to him. It's all she has to do, and he's by her side in three steps.

She looks better than she did before, he notices. Her eyes have lost that crazed look and she finally seems to have stopped quivering.

Still, he can't stop himself from asking, "You okay?"

She nods and buries her face in his shoulder. When the time comes to go home she begs her mother to let him sleep in her room tonight. Her father turns slightly red at the request and her mother, too, tells her calmly that there will be no boys sleeping over as long as she's still in high school. Spencer looks crestfallen and confesses quite desperately that she doesn't want to sleep alone. He can hear the tremor in her voice, and his chest hurts because he knows how hard it is for her to admit any kind of weakness around her family.

Her mother, however, is uncommonly understanding. "You can sleep in my bed tonight. Okay?"

But Spencer just shakes her head rapidly, and he can tell she's dangerously close to tears. "No, it's not the same. It has to be Toby. Please… I've never asked you for anything but I need this."

"I'll sleep on the floor," he finds himself offering, almost aghast at how his voice sounds just as raw as hers as he looks at Spencer's mother with pleading eyes.

Veronica sighs, clearly hesitant. Finally, she mutters, "You don't have to sleep on the floor."

Later, it's not this night that stands out to him. This night they simply tumble into Spencer's big bed together and he holds her against him and she sleeps a surprisingly dreamless sleep.

The night he'll remember for years to come happens ten days later. She's been sneaking him into her room at night whenever she can, and he's fairly certain her mother knows but as usual everything always works better in the Hastings household when deceit is left untouched.

However, tonight she doesn't have to slip out of bed after her mother has turned in for the evening to tiptoe downstairs to let him in. Veronica is away on business so they can act like normal people for once. He finishes up in the bathroom and when he finds her in bed, he's surprised she isn't reading. She's on her side facing him, and he can see her relax further when he crawls in with her. For a moment they simply lie there and drink in each other's appearance, but she looks so beautiful with her naked eyelashes and tangled hair that he can't resist. His thumb trails her jaw and before he knows it he's pressing a long, tender kiss against her lips. It's more comforting than rushed or heated – not really the kind of kiss than precedes sex. When they break apart he brushes another kiss to the corner of her mouth and then her baby soft cheek. He pulls back to smile lazily at her but it falters when he sees that her eyes have glazed over.

Before he can ask what could possibly be wrong, she smiles through her tears. All she says is, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Of course." His hand instinctively finds her hip under the covers. "Where else would I be when your mom's out of town?"

"No." She shakes her head a little. "I'm glad you're _still_ here."

_I'm glad you still want me._

He hears what she didn't say, and it devastates him – because how is it even possible that he managed to destroy in a few weeks what he'd spent the last year and a half building up?

She must have caught something in his face because he adds quietly, "It's not your fault. It's just…" She sighs and her lower lip trembles. "You're so noble and honorable and pure, and I think I've always been a little afraid that one day you might resent me because I'm not."

"You're amazing the way you are," he tells her, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I know you've always felt like you had to fight to make people see that but you don't have to convince me. I already know that, and even when I'm mad I love and accept all of you. Including the parts that aren't perfect."

"But what if you change your mind?"

It's simple question, to which he replies vehemently, "That's never going to happen."

"You don't know that." He sees tears build up behind her eyes again. "You don't know where we'll be in a year, or ten, or twenty."

"You're right, I don't," he admits. "But I do know that I can't picture my future without you in it. I don't even try, because I can't."

It's ironic, he thinks, that they're having this conversation when it's obvious to anyone with eyes that she's so far out of his league that it's ridiculous. It's been clear to him from the very first time their lips met, and while he'd come to accept that for some reason she didn't see it that way he never imagined he'd be the one to have to persuade her.

Finally, she says exhaustedly, "It scares the fucking shit out of me how much I love you."

He chuckles in spite himself, because there she is – that quick-witted, foul-mouthed, beautiful mess of a girl he fell in love with.

He pulls her closer. "Well, it shouldn't. Because I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, Spencer Hastings. And I have no problem spending the rest of my life trying to prove that to you."

He knows it will be an ongoing process. He wishes he could believe this heart-to-heart they just had will fix everything, but for someone with emotional scars of that magnitude it doesn't seem very likely. It pains him, but it also causes a steely determination.

Someday, she will see herself through his eyes and she will love herself. He can't accept anything less.

Their first test comes a few weeks later. She's out of school for the summer and shows up at this desk unannounced with coffee for him. He's happy to see her, but he's also drowning in paperwork, his new boss is breathing down his neck and to make matters worse half the precinct is out with the flu.

"Thanks," he tells her, and he knows he sounds stressed. "I know I said I might be able to make lunch today but it looks like I'm–"

He's interrupted by a colleague, who beckons him for a house call. He gives her a helpless look while he stacks his files and prepares to leave. "I have to go. I'll call you later, okay?"

She nods, and he almost misses the troubled gleam in her eye. Almost.

"Hey." He grabs her hand. "Come here."

He leads her away to an abandoned corner where he feels like he can be himself for a second while he talks to her.

"It's not you," he speaks quietly. "I would love nothing more than to spend a few minutes with you… but it's crazy around here today. I'll tell you about it later but for now I have to do my job, okay?"

Her eyes hold his for a moment before he sees a sort of calm wash over them. "Will you be careful?"

"Of course." He smiles at her, relieved to see how she mirrors his expression. Then he does something he's not supposed to do when he's in uniform. He kisses her.

"Get out of here," he murmurs affectionately, brushing their noses together. "I'll call you as soon as I can, I promise."

He watches her walk away and it's like she's taking a part of him with her.

Another few weeks into the summer, they lie in bed in the middle of the afternoon. It's his day off, and they spent some time in the pool and then in the hot tub, after which they came upstairs to make love. The curtains are drawn and it's as if the sun is trying extra hard to shine bright, to poke through the material and remind them that it's daytime and there's really no excuse for this bout of laziness they are engaging in.

But they refuse to be disturbed. Her hair is still damp, and he loves the feel of it as it sifts through his fingers. Her head rests on his chest, and when he catches the tranquil look on her features he feels that familiar tightness in his gut.

"I love you," he declares softly. "You know that, right?"

She tilts her face to look up at him, and the awe in her eyes doesn't escape him. Maybe it was always there. Maybe it was always there and he's only now noticing it.

Eventually she nods. Then, hesitantly, "But… why?"

He looks at her in surprise for a moment, and his words from all those weeks ago suddenly come back to him.

_Does it scare you that someone could possibly love you that much? Or do you just not believe it?_

He realizes with a sudden heat rush that it's neither of these things. It's that she simply doesn't understand it.

His first instinct is to ramble passionately about two hundred thousand things that make her the most incredible person he knows. She's smart, she's resourceful, she's funny, she's talented, she's beautiful. The look on her face when she has to win. The fierceness that takes over her entire being when she protects someone she loves. The chip on her shoulder that melts away whenever he puts his arms around her. The fact that she can lead an entire group of people and not even flinch. The lights in her eyes when she laughs. How cute she looks when she's fallen asleep on the couch. The way she always moves so gracefully.

But then he registers that this is all beside the point. Yes, he adores these things about her, but if one or more of them stopped being true it wouldn't change the way he felt.

He gives her the deepest authenticity within him. "Because you're you."

Her eyes widen a little and her hands come to wrap around his face. She looks at him like he's made of gold for a moment before pressing herself against him with a slow, messy kiss.

She looks so peaceful when they break apart and she rests her head against him again, so serene that he has to tell himself to be careful. More likely than not her insecurities will resurface, and he must be vigilant and sensitive to them if he wants to avoid more problems for them in the long run.

Especially since his current profession is a lot more demanding and time-consuming than his previous one.

There's a hole inside her that they both thought he'd filled, but it turns out he only covered it with gauze. He can't fill it, he knows now. He can love her and kiss her and hold her close, but at the end of the day she's the only one who can make herself whole. It kills him that he can't fix this for her but he supposes he'll just have to settle for holding her hand while she figures it out.

No matter how deeply he loves her, he's not blind to the notion that she's not always the easiest person to be in a relationship with. This newfound awareness of just how deep her battle wounds are certainly isn't making things any less complicated, but he realizes he doesn't care. She's more than worth it.


End file.
